


Night Time, Our Time

by zialless



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Au Prompt Meme, Based on a Tumblr Post, Basically Zayn is comforting Niall who's isolated himself from the party, I'll link when I find it, I'm really dysfunctional when it comes to writing, M/M, More of a Coney Island thing, Not Coney Island though, Not a party though, Shy!Niall, Ugh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 15:53:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1904871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zialless/pseuds/zialless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Almost everywhere they hit or hung about in, Zayn would constantly be called or approached by people. Niall would just be behind, pretending that he’s grateful of the compliments people keep sending his way, and Zayn would laugh because he knows. Niall doesn’t care. He cares for nothing!</p><p>Except for the hand that reaches for his to make sure he’s still there sometimes. That he cares about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Time, Our Time

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this](http://fuckboyzayn.tumblr.com/post/84482005546/oralliam-i-peg-zayn-as-the-unreasonably) Tumblr post ... It's a prompt! Not about Niall and Zayn but I really wanted it to be, because well... look at my url. Also, it's not shy Niall. More like... Easily flustered?
> 
> But it's not a good fic. I just like the prompt. Found it cute, wrote my sight on it. Not based on Sky Ferreria's song, _Night Time, Our Time._
> 
> No beta, and I completely rushed through the editing because I'm not a big fan of fluff but here we are... Me posting my fluff prompt. I'm a mess. So here we go.

Niall doesn’t like the crowd of tonight’s party—or any party at all. Tonight’s more of a festival than a party but same thing with drinks, music, and a bit of fucking here and there. Niall still doesn't like this certain one the most.  
  
He wishes it goes the same way when he tags behind Zayn. No, he loves the atmosphere and along with everybody else, they just love Niall. They love them both.  
  
They're there with at least twenty of their friends and their friends and they just gush about Zayn and Niall. He’s not sure if it’s because he’s dating Zayn or—no, that’s it. That’s it, alright.  
  
It’s only because the last time Niall saw his friends, he looked very deviant—sky-rocketed to the highest level that people thought Zayn got a new boyfriend that was some kind of model who wears clothes like everybody else.  
  
No one would be certain of how a guy such as Zayn, with such charisma, charm, and exquisite features in both personality and his looks came about to come across someone who hated everything Zayn has. Niall is trying his best to tolerate Zayn’s extrovert ways, along with his best endeavour to make him look better than he already is. Cocky but it’s working at least—with its defects.  
  
He’s dressing way better than before—wearing flannels and skinnies with converses to keep it casually simple without seemingly desperate to look as well as Zayn who did not try at all. It wasn’t just on campus he began to dress differently. Tonight too, at this summer festival Zayn was invited today to come by a couple of friends of his to celebrate the lad’s girlfriend’s birthday at the festival. Niall wore a red-checkered flannel in his knee-ripped skinnies and black high tops. He doesn’t remember when he started to wear jeans as tight as his skin and it’s quite funny how things turn out—he likes them a lot.  
  
If it wasn’t for the good bands and music artists playing or Zayn's fervour to show Niall off to everyone, Niall would’ve left from time where he stepped inside the gate, seeing a sea of wild-asses yelling, teenagers and their goons. The smell of funnel cakes is a scent Niall doesn't mind but not the ciders and alcohol people spilled. A waste for it to be on the floor. Just drink it, Zayn always says— _you drink it!_  
  
Almost everywhere they hit or hung about in, Zayn would constantly be called or approached by people. Niall would just be behind, pretending that he’s grateful of the compliments people keep sending his way, and Zayn would laugh because he knows. Niall doesn’t care. He cares for nothing!  
  
Except for the hand that reaches for his to make sure he’s still there sometimes. That he cares about.  
  
Where’s he supposed to go, the Ferris wheel alone? The food area? Does he want to get lost? Not quite.  
  
Zayn’s just as tired as Niall when it comes to the small-talk. There’s only so much he can chat about before thinking of ways to shut them up. He’s trying his best to make them diminutive but people just insist talking and talking  
  
Yeah, he wants to show off Niall. At the same time, he just doesn’t. Compliments are okay. They make people happy so Zayn understands why people give a lot of them to Niall. It’s just—40 with him stopping count after two hours is fucking a lot and the majority of them were inappropriately too much to bear.  
  
Niall's standing aside from the sea of people seated on seats as they become entertained by a band called _The Neighbourhood_. He can see Zayn from where he is—standing above his friends who are all laughing. Niall thinks they suck a lot. Zayn says they're not _friends_ friends but who's he with right now? That’s right, them and not him. They're insufferable and gaudy, always smoking without the consideration that people are going to die from second hand smoke. Just like now. That's why he's dissociated himself. At least with Zayn, he smokes away from him and doesn't come back until he's winded off from the poison.  
  
He sips that last bit from his beer can before tossing it in the closest bin before he could go back to the same spot. Nodding his head off to their slow and atmospheric indie rock sound of this band, he doesn't know what the hell to specify them as but they're music's vibe is surreal with its electronica, hip hop beats and R &B vocals. And it seems like Zayn's taken a notice because he's mazing through the rows of seats and tables to get to him. Niall doesn’t want to make it evident that he’s very happy he’s ditching his friends for him.  
  
Zayn's eyebrows quirk up through his Ray Bans once he puts himself in Niall's proximity, hand on the crook of his neck before he drops it to hold his free hand, and raises it up above his head. “Can you like—” Zayn spins under their hands, mocking ballroom dance. It's absurd; _The Neighbourhood_ is playing a song that could be played in the background of a sad porn. “Smile, babe?” He laughs even before Niall can. God, Niall hates how easily Zayn can just make him smile. Niall goes with his little dance, showing how Zayn’s succeeded with him. Niall pulls him in afterwards before dipping him, clenching his drink, bursting in laughter when he almost falls.  
  
“Wow! Noodle arms can do more than just—whatever a noodle does, eh?” Zayn fixes the hold of his other hand on Niall’s neck. He doesn’t remember being so confident to the point that he’s dancing in public but hell—if it’s with Niall, why not?  
  
His boyfriend scoffs at his light, scornful abuse. “Yeah, keep making fun of me arms. Remember, _I’m_ holdin’ you.”  
  
“Like you’d actually drop me on the ground.”  
  
“I do a lot of things I shouldn’t.” Niall pulls him up on his feet anyways. Knowing if Zayn drops, he won’t be afraid to drag him down too. Besides, he doesn’t have the strength to hold Zayn. He’s got no strength to keep the dip.  
  
Zayn grasps him by his hip, letting himself be pressed against Niall’s body. His arm embraces around his waist, determined not to let him leave his side. He turns his head at Niall then, making sure he doesn’t look anywhere else but him. He’s not, he can’t. Zayn’s holding him to face nowhere but straight at him and they were close enough to brush noses without even having to lean themselves to that proximity.  
  
 _When I wake up, I'm afraid, somebody will take my place_ — Zayn croons the lyrics as he looks at the button Niall didn’t close for his shirt, notices his growing chest hairs. He looks up to find him shaking his head with a burgeoning smile.  
  
“Ya know this band?” Niall tilts Zayn's head up using his thumb to look him through his glasses.  
  
“Yeah." Zayn says quite lethargically. "Good band.”  
  
“They are.” Niall agrees as well.  
  
“Wouldn't mind going to their concert?” A light smile comes from Zayn that alerts Niall to flourish his eyes wide but narrow them in quickly.  
  
"Ya gonna bring your _buddies_?" He nudges his head towards their way. Then he rolls his eyes when he realizes they’re looking over their way.  
  
Zayn curves the corner of his lips. "Oh yes. Only for you."  
  
A light slap on his cheek, Niall puffs. “I’d fuckin’ kill ya.”  
  
“You’re serious. I can tell—your eyebrows aren’t doing its thing. Y’really won’t show me some leniency at least?”  
  
“Nah, crazy lad!” Niall laughs, into the crook Zayn’s neck. “Educate yourself.”  
  
 _“And I see your true colours!”_ Zayn warbles to Niall, even adding some ad-libs and riffs that Niall laughs at. To him, it’s impressive how he can just sing like that without any kind of force behind it. And he couldn’t feel more than embarrassed that Zayn’s singing one of _Cindi Lauper’s_ biggest hits about being honest to one’s self.  
  
Zayn impishly fists Niall’s hip bone and presses his forehead on Zayn’s shoulder; closing his eyes to Zayn switching his hand movement at Niall’s hip to thumbing the bone, lifting the end of his flannel to feel his skin. He’s not trying to tease him, except the hairs on Niall’s arm still decide to stand on their own.  
  
The corner of Zayn’s lip curves up when he hears Niall still laughing quietly to himself. His jokes aren’t funny as he thinks them to be and somehow, Niall always finds them amusing. He’ll always remind himself a joke Zayn said two hours ago, and Zayn will find him laughing to himself.  
  
That’s something he likes about Niall: he’ll always find something good in something dreadful. It’s not about being effortlessly rapt—hell, it took Niall to like Zayn in two months as friends, even with his horrid jokes. But Niall will constantly be smiling, and Zayn will always too. It will always be that funny to him that Niall forgets he’s self-conscious about his braces, and let a big smile out, not caring that at 19 in university, he’s wearing braces. And it wasn’t ugly. In fact, they’re one of the hottest thing Zayn notices about Niall, second to his eyes. But that’s just looks, and he’s got tons that have nothing to do with looks. He’ll admit Niall wasn’t up to his standards until he got to know him.  
  
All aside, it’s not easy to keep a straight face around Niall as much as he wants. He’ll break it for him without doing anything. He doesn’t have to be there for Zayn to smile. Any kind of moment in class, such as when the professor is giving one of the most brain-dead lectures, Zayn would smile remembering he has Niall on his contact list. It’s things like those that spark this kind of unexplainable introversion that Zayn hates having that kind of feeling flow within him. He wants to hide, he doesn’t like that his cheeks flush red through his tan skin, and he really doesn’t like anyone asking him anything about it.  
  
 _Why are you smiling like that?_ They would ask him anyway.  
  
 _Nothing! It’s just you see—I’m dating an idiot who—I don’t know why—is dating me._ He should say, but instead would answer, _nothing._  
  
Niall was his own kind of happiness, but not the one he wants to tell people that he feels butterflies in his stomach for. It’s not like he needs to tell anyone, they see it already. He doesn’t know it though.  
  
Yet, that’s just it—that’s how he knows Niall’s good for him.  
  
It’s just as worse for Niall too. He’ll start to fake his laugh for Zayn so he doesn’t end up with a joke no one laughed at. Somewhere along that line, he’ll crack up genuinely, without a clue. It doesn’t take long for him to realize that he’s laughing at Zayn’s happiness. His eyes would gleam and form wrinkles in the corner. He’ll laugh at Zayn, and avoid the teasing until later because there’s no other way to thank Zayn for wanting to make him happy and he is. He really is.  
  
Zayn pecks the side of his head, feeling his soft hair against his face as he cossets Niall away from the crowd’s attention that were still being thrown towards their way. He wants to take him away so badly and just be alone with him. No people and certainly none of Zayn's friends; just them two and chicken wings or pizza, and he’ll watch Niall devour the 4th piece of pizza and realize Zayn hasn’t gotten his fair share. He’ll let him have it anyways. He doesn’t mind; he just hopes he leaves him the crust.  
  
“Why are ya friends so— _gngh_!” Niall asks, turning his head to the right, proving his point, and buries his face immediately down. “—Keep lookin’ at me.”  
  
“Acquaintances.” Zayn corrects him. He barely knows anyone’s name. He just says _“hey!”_ or _“yo!”_ when he sees them. They respond pretty well to it. “Just don’t mind them.”  
  
“I can feel them staring into my soul. I don’t even have to look.” With a derisive huff, Niall leans off of Zayn.  
  
“They want to steal you away from me, and I won’t let’em!”  
  
He becomes pressed by Zayn; yelping over the music without everyone turning to look at what Zayn’s craziness has him doing. Zayn bobs his chin on the curve of his neck; feeling the grazes of his stubble and the jabs he’s pushing down with his chin on that one spot that could’ve killed Zayn if he pushed down any harder. The neck is the worst spot on him. It beats being poked on both sides. It was 10 times that pain on his neck than his sides.  
  
“Hah! Zayn! Stop!” Niall hiccups between his laugh before prodding his finger in Zayn’s armpit, causing him to flinch back and tighten his arm down. He frowns at Niall—almost resembling a toddler who couldn’t get his way. He suddenly laughs with a great amount of pity for himself before turning Niall around to hug his arms around his waist.  
  
“Zayn!” If Niall can remember, his name is Ant or Anthony; maybe both. “Gettin' some drinks?”  
  
“Maybe later, alright?” Zayn laughs quietly at Niall trying to free himself. He doesn’t even take the time to look up at who the offer’s coming from—only watches Niall trying to pry the fingers holding him loose.  
  
“You could go, Zayn.” Niall huffs as he tries pulling off Zayn’s arms around him.  
  
“No, no, I’m _winning_ this.”  
  
Zayn wasn’t going to leave Niall for his friends when he knows how much he hates them and the attention from just about everything. It makes him moody. That’s why they’re here far from then where Niall doesn't have to at least hear anything, so Zayn can take him away from all of it, be the only source of attention he needs. Other than that, he’s only interested being with Niall tonight. It just so happens there’s this birthday celebration at the same time.  
  
Without anyone realizing it after some time, Anthony’s already gone and Niall’s still trying to free the constricted hold around him. He doesn’t know why Niall makes these candid efforts till this day. They play-fight all the time and Zayn has one of the toughest grip. This is their diurnal little thing—they always have to have one. Sometimes Niall wins because Zayn wants him to win, and it leads to Zayn giving him a quickie or a good fuck. Other times, Zayn loses on purpose without making it to obvious, and Niall gives him whatever reward he can think up—sex or he’ll clean up the whole place. He’s satisfied both ways and right now—  
  
“ _Uncle!_ ” Niall strains as he laughs.  
  
“We should change that to _daddy_. Who fucking cares about _uncle_?” Zayn stiffens his arm around and Niall gives another go trying to pry Zayn’s fingers loose.  
  
“I’m not calling ya daddy!” Niall snorts.  
  
“You think I’m letting go then?” Zayn queries.  
  
“Okay! Okay, daddy!” Niall groans and Zayn lets go laughing at Niall trying to catch his breath.  
  
“Wow, I didn’t think you’d actually…” Zayn drones and Niall catches on, giving him a punch on the shoulder.  
  
“You said to! You’re unbelievable.” Niall takes a step back before he makes a step forward again.  
  
Distracted so well, he’s not bothered by the people watching what they were up to. He’s clueless that people are—some not helping themselves envy what they have.  
  
“You say it all the time anyways.” Zayn teases, letting his jaw drop before bursting out of laughter before Niall can shut him up by covering his hand over his mouth.  
  
It’s sometimes a bad habit to look into Niall’s eyes because Zayn ends up weak for them. They’re bright enough to see past the hollow skin and into his buried soul, making Zayn easily vulnerable. If Niall asked him to marry him right now, he’d agree before realizing his acceptance to be bonded for eternity. Not that there’s a problem—they’ve been dating for 2 years.  
  
He clasps Niall’s fingertips over his mouth before pecking his lips on his palm. He pulls his hand off, lets Zayn hold it instead. Not too long, they tell things to each other’s lips—nothing people can see or hear now. It makes people envious.  
  
Zayn just loves him a lot, shows it through a few kisses here and there; Niall even showing him some back when he turns his head to the right, then Zayn ends up kissing his cheek instead of his lips.  
  
“You fell for it—oh!” Niall laughs, abruptly bursting louder when Zayn digs his chin back onto his neck. “Okay! I’m sorry!”  
  
Sooner or later, he pulls from Niall’s neck just before Niall would fit his lips between his, pacing without pushing his mouth so forcefully. Zayn always tries to match it, considering how hard it is for him because Niall’s just really good to kiss.  
  
Zayn's elbows rest on Niall's shoulders before he could clasp his own hands together above Niall's head. And Niall's arms hook on his body with his forearms reaching the midsection of his back, fingers from his free hand press around on his back. They tilt their head in a proper angle. Ecstatic, Zayn's right arm slides down, clutching the blond-tipped hair of Niall before letting his other arm drop around to wrap itself around Niall's neck.  
  
Niall never minds the attention that comes with making out. Only this is the exception. Thoughts are spiralling in his head; he has too much to care about and none of them could be about how people are watching. They could watch, but they can't join though.  
  
His tongue flicks against Zayn's when he tilts his head more to his left, pressing his mouth harder with his. And along with their mouth pushing against each other, feeling the flat of their tongues together, their hold is tight around each other.  
  
“Let’s go.” Zayn pushes his mouth after, his top lip overlapping Niall’s as Zayn’s thumbs caresses his jawline with the rest of his fingers fondling with the wisps of his hair on his neck.  
  
“Really?” Niall asks, droning. Zayn could hear the happy in his voice, and slides his tongue inside once more.  
  
"Mhm." Zayn hums before pulling his bottom lip apart from Niall. And he's missing it again. He licks his lips before their lips attach, and he's hoping he could pull away without getting in the edge to kiss him again. Otherwise, he's speechless tonight.  
  
“You lost remember?” He says after some time. He begins to pull Niall with him, walking out the concert venue's fences so they could leave.  
  
“I could give you what you want here if you don’t want to wait.” Niall lifts his eyebrows, seeing no reason to why he wants to leave. His friends are here.  
  
Zayn knows he will. He’s like that. Always intent into what he’s supposed to do, and sometimes he doesn’t have to. “No, no. We'll get some food over there and walk it home.”  
  
“We could call in pizza.” Niall shakes his head at Zayn. It would be easier to call for it from their house. It won’t be any trouble. In fact, it’s easier and more fun. They have a bed to rest on and Netflix.  
  
Zayn pulls him through the crowd, trying to maneuver without bodies shoving the both of them back to delay them from leaving. “No, I want to be out with you.”  
  
Niall doesn’t mind that choice either, as long as he’s with him. And he couldn’t help but smile because of his answer either. His kindness is something he can never get used to. Everyone’s always been an asshole.  
  
“Zayn! Leaving already?” Ant hollers at him when they end up crossing paths. A cup of beer in both of his hands; it’s speaking to Niall and he just kind of wants to take one for the road. Figuratively, of course.  
  
Zayn feels bad that he and Niall only stayed for an hour and are leaving them already. But it is 10. The birthday girl’s not here yet—probably doing who knows what. No one’s that late to their own surprise.  
  
“Um—ya! Got work n’shit…” Zayn answers blandly. He doesn’t have work, but Niall goes with it, waving happily to everyone who’s finally not giving a fuck about them anymore. He couldn’t be more than happy. Only if they don't get caught in the next hour wandering around the fair.  
  
Niall finally exhales the tainted air he’s been breathing all night. He’s glad all he can hear is the faint music and din conversations he knows won't be about them because the difference walking out of the concert venue and into the food area was frighteningly amazing to Niall.  
  
“See! I wanted to leave since we came in.” He remembers how eager Zayn was to leave like he was when he heard about going to the summer festival with assholes. “And doesn’t it feel good?”  
  
“Yes, I know that. And it does.” Zayn hums as he slips his fingers between Niall’s.  
  
“So technically, _I_ won tonight.”  
  
He didn’t actually but Zayn will give it to him. They are alone earlier than he expected. “And you want…”  
  
“No change in the plan. But I choose the food..."  
  
“Yeah…?” Zayn knows he's not finished.  
  
“And you… Kind of… Also… Hafta pay.”  
  
Zayn shakes his head. “Left your wallet?”  
  
“Um, yup.” Niall tilts his head left and right. “I won too.” He mutters. In some unexplainable way, he did so Zayn couldn't argue.  
  
Zayn side-eyes him with a flourishing grin on his face. “Alright.”  
  
It’s quiet afterwards; the two watching the lights from the carnival games and Ferris wheel outshine the stars and hearing nothing but laughter from others. And Niall’s forgetting something.  
  
“Thanks shit face.” He exhales ecstatically, breaking silence. Not just for the reason of sacrificing $10 for a funnel cake.  
  
Zayn raises his eyebrows and rolls his eyes playfully as he beams. “Oh, you’re welcome, _asshole_.”


End file.
